Makes you happy
by robinh
Summary: Post episode 5-8. After dinner with Madeline and Benny Michael and Fiona have some unfinished business. She sure looks like she's angry with him. Not sure what he can do about it though... My first Fanfic. Please review.


Disclaimer: own nothing…

Post episode -508.

The dinner was over. During dinner things were pretty much in control, when Michael and Fiona paid attention to all of Benny's stories, laughed at his jokes and made the right comments at the right time.

Madeline was not that easy to fool though. She could see something was wrong between the two from the way Fiona was ignoring Michael's comments, and the way he looked at her from time to time with a look she could only describe as desperate.

On the first chance, she took Fiona aside and under the excuse of going to the bathroom dragged her outside.

"So! What's going on with the two of you ?" she asked pulling her cigarette and lighter and looking intently into Fiona's eyes.

"Nothing is going on" Fiona said defensively.

"Come on sweetheart" Madeline was not impressed, "You hardly talk to one another. Michael is looking at you like you took his last yogurt. I didn't see you two that miserable since you moved in together".

Fiona looked up at Madeline and shrugged "I don't want to talk about it Madeline".

"So something _is_ wrong!" Madeline marveled at her success. But upon seeing the distress on Fiona's face she quickly changed her tone and gently touched the young woman's face.

"Please Fiona, tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help".

"Thank you Madeline. But I really don't want to talk about it". Fiona was trembling a little bit and Madeline's heart was aching for her.

"Well, sweetheart. You need to sort it out. You two have to talk about it".

"I can't talk to Michael. You know he is impossible to talk to, he just closes down, or even worse, starts to apologize for everything. I can't stand it when he's apologizing. I can kill him on the spot. It's no use, It will only cause more damage".

"Well darling. You are going to have to talk to someone eventually. And you better do it quickly because next week the four of us are meeting for lunch, and I will not have you two sitting there with fake smiles".

By saying this, Madeline threw her cigarette to the ground and headed back to the table, Fiona followed her with an annoyed look on her face.

After finishing dinner and saying goodbye to Madeline and Benny, Fiona and Michael were on their way each to his or her own car. Michael was following Fiona to her car, when she opened the car door and got in. He bent forward to speak to her, but she did not wait to hear what he had to say and before he had time to react she was already closing the door and the car was speeding out of the parking lot.

Michael was left there alone, his hand in his hair, not sure how things have deteriorated that much.

Fiona was in her car. She looked in the rear view mirror seeing Michael standing there with a puzzled look on his face, and immediately was angry again. Did he really not get it ?

She was thinking about what Madeline said. She had to talk to someone. She could not go through it alone. She needed to talk to someone who knew her and Michael. Madeline was no good, She could never talk to her about her past, and her times in Ireland. Madeline was part of her present, and of her new self. Hopefully she would be a big part of her future, with Michael, if there is a future with Michael. Sam knew. He knew her back in the days. But he was Michael's friend first and foremost, and he did not believe that Michael could act any differently than the way he does. She had to believe that things could change, to develop – like the loft – there was a process of change there. Michael must be capable of change. He must be. Or else…. She couldn't even think of what else.

Suddenly she thought of someone. She looked at her watch. It was early morning over there. It's a good time. She pulled her phone out and dialed the digits with pounding heart. It was strange. Every time she called she was so excited, and she had that feeling of swelling in her throat. God, if she didn't know better she would call it…. emotional? how weird is that ?

"Hello?" the voice on the other side was clear and happy.

"Ma?" Fiona's voice was filled with tenderness and she was smiling.

"Fiona ? sweetheart?" her mother's voice was influenced by her own smile and suddenly Fiona felt very much at home.

"Yes. It's me ma" she said. She had to cough a little and sit up in the drivers sit to control her emotions.

"What's wrong girl ?" her mother's voice was suddenly hard and suspicious.

"oh nothing" Fiona said immediately " I just called to say hi" .

"Fiona Maurine Glennane! What is wrong? "

Her mother was not stupid. And she knew her inside and out. She could tell that something was wrong just from listening to her voice for two seconds.

"I had a rough time. That's all" Fiona said quietly.

"what did he do this time ? " her mother sighed in annoyance.

"I met Armand" Fiona said waiting for her mother's tantrum.

"What? why did you meet him? did he look you up and found you? did he try to hurt you child?" her mother was worried now.

"No no no". Fiona was saying quickly. "It was me who looked him up. I approached him".

She heard her mother pulling a chair, and she could hear her sipping what she imagined was her black tea. "Tell me from the beginning child". She said. "Tell me what you got yourself into".

Fiona could see the loft's gait at the end of the street. She looked back at her rear view mirror but could not see the charger anywhere.

"Michael needed some information", she said, "He needed some important information about a bomb. We had to know the identity of someone who built a bomb in order to frame him. It was really high quality bomb and we had no lead. So I suggested to call Armand".

Her mother was sitting quietly and listened to her while Fiona told her all the details of her dealings with Armand, not forgetting to describe the cruelty in which he talked to her, the way he brought back the past and the way she felt like she was drowning again in the black sea of terror and death that was once her world.

she was talking constantly without her mother's interference. She was back at the loft by now and was standing outside in the balcony finishing her story.

"I am so mad at him!" she was screaming now. Tears running down her face and between the heart breaking sobs she heard her mother's words "you know who Armand is child. He is a predator, he is cruel and ruthless. You should not waist your energy on him".

Fiona was quiet suddenly. "I am no mad at Armand" she said in a surprise, "I am mad at Michael! He is the one who threw me back to Armand's arms. He was so focused on his needs and his mission and his war to clear his name and blah blah blah as he always is since the moment I met him. He doesn't care what price others has to pay".

She finished her tantrum. She felt completely spent and emotionally exhausted. There was a strange quiet in the other side of the line

"Ma?" Fiona was worried that the connection was lost, but at last she could hear her mother taking a deep breath. She was waiting to hear her mother's shouts and spread accusations. Her repeated claims and objections against Michael. She was waiting for her to agree and to threaten to tear his limbs off and curse him. After all She was threatening to tear his limbs off for the majority of the last 15 years.

Her mother's actual reply almost made her drop the phone in astonishment.

"Well my child, you knew exactly what you are getting yourself into. You can't blame it on the boy. As far as you told me, he didn't even knew about Armand".

"What?" this was amazing. Her own mother defending Michael? the same mother who held him at gun point after catching them in bed together in her small flat in Dublin and was only persuaded to let him live after Fiona had managed, with the help of her 2 stronger brothers Sean and Patrick, to separate her from the very scared and very naked Michael.

"Fiona, love, God knows I have never liked the boy. And I will never forgive him for lying to you, causing you grief and pain and after all of these, taking you away from me forever. But I have to admit, he changed your life for the better". Fiona's mother was quiet trying to find the right words. Fiona was so stunned, she did not know what to say.

"Before you met him you were running around with criminals and terrorists, you were loud and violent and you never look back at the consequences of what you did. And, when you two first met you did all those things together, and I was worried that you will get even deeper with him and that he will be the death of you. But after he left, and when you found him again, without the lies and the pretence, I could see it was different".

Fiona was amazed. In the background she could hear the loft's door opening and closing and familiar footsteps on the floor. Michael was home.

"He hurt you again, I know, but you never really broke apart since then. He took you into his chaotic and unstable world but he changed you. You are not the woman you used to be now. You are doing good things, you are moving forward and growing. And you are happy. And I think that he makes you happy".

Fiona was nodding to her mother's words silently. Michael was standing in the middle of the room looking at her behind the transparent closed doors of the balcony with a worried face.

"He did not make you go to Armand. You suggested it. You knew the reproductions. You chose to do it because you chose to help the man you love and risk yourself for him. But I bet, if that boy knew what you are planning to do, and who Armand really was he would not let you near him".

"No he wouldn't" Fiona sighed. "He would never let me near him. He would do it himself".

"Now child, it is very late. And I bet you got him all worked up and worried by now. Why don't you go, and say you are sorry and go to sleep".

"I will ma. Thanks".

"It's fine child" Her mother was smiling again on the other side of the world. "Don't think for one second that he is off the hook with me", her mother's soft words were changing again to her normal assertive and ironic lilt.

"Why are you still mad at him? You just said he was making me a better person" Fiona was laughing now behind her dried up tears.

"Well he still lives in sin with you, doesn't he? When I'll see a ring on your finger we can open the subject again".

Michael was standing in the dark loft, looking at Fiona speaking on her phone on the balcony. Who the hell could she be calling to in this time? this was very strange even for a gun running ex-IRA operative.

During dinner he was miserable. He could see her laughing and talking to his mother and to her friend and he tried to do the same, but he could not take his mind off her words. An ex-boyfriend, a terrorist ex-boyfriend who she dealt with in the last few days when he was away. God only knows what he was doing to her mind. He tried hard not to think about him doing things to her body…. She was mad at him that was very clear. This seems to be the permanent feeling she had for him nowadays. He was damned if he knew how it happened. They were living together, she was happy to redecorate and change everything in the loft and he let her to, because, although he couldn't see any point in the yellow ornament on the wall and the red vase on the shelf, and he really couldn't tell her which curtains looked better even if his life depended on it, He knew three things – that the fridge was filled with delicious things besides yogurt, that the new soft linens with the musky fragrant that was also embedded in his towels was amazingly good and that sleeping in bed with her, and also not sleeping in bed with her was making him open his eyes each morning astonished at his good fortune.

But now….. she was standing in front of him, speaking to god knows who in the middle of the night and looking at him in the strangest look he had ever seen on her.

He momentarily thought about locking the door and taking her car keys, in case she is going to run away from him. But if she wanted to go away she could just shoot him, and this will get him nowhere. So he just stood there and looked at her waiting for the storm.

She finished her phone conversation and stepped into the loft again. Standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry" he said immediately. Just in case.

"For what?" she asked in bewilderment raising her eye brow.

"For…. Well…. For this week. For you having to deal with Armand. For not telling you about agent Pearce, for everything. I'm sorry".

"Wow! That was really good" she smiled at him and just went past him, to go to the kitchen and take a yogurt.

He followed her with his look. This was very strange. She didn't look angry at him. It actually caused him more panic.

"Is everything alright Fi?" Michael's voice was a little hoarse. She could sense his uncertainty.

"No Michael. Everything is not alright!". She dropped her spoon on the counter, left her yogurt there and came striding towards him. She could practically feel him cringe in fear.

"I owe you an apology" she was standing close to him looking straight into his eyes, her look boring into him.

"For what?" now he was really really worried.

"I should have told you about Armand. I shouldn't have tried to do it by myself. And after being around him, I shouldn't have blame you for the way he treated me. I knew what I was getting into. I should have taken the responsibility".

He looked at her like she was losing her mind. he have known her for the last 15 years and loved her for the majority of them, and not once did she ever apologize to him.

He didn't know what to say. His eyes followed her as she walked back to the counter to finish her yogurt.

He walked to the counter, opted to stand on the other side. If she was losing her mind, he could lose a vital organ, it would be safer to put a barrier between them at the moment.

"So you are not angry with me?" he asked her again just to be sure.

"No Michael. Should I be?"

Now, that was a trick question, he was sure of it. It was actually strange. He was able to play mind games with the most ruthless terrorists, drug lords, dictators and lunatics in the world and win, but in his own home, with her, he felt like he was walking on a very thin line, and Fiona is standing down there like a lion, just waiting for him to make the wrong move.

"This is not a trick question" she told him, finishing her yogurt and rinsing the spoon under the tap.

"You sure looked like you were angry with me..." He tried not to let the frustration show in his voice, but some of it did come out a little bit. He was looking down at the floor, kicking absentmindedly at the counter's side. Too bad in fact, as he was missing the perfect smile that was spreading on her lips and the loving look she gave him.

"Who did you talk to on the phone?" He asked casually coming to her side of the counter and reaching behind her for a bottle of water in the fridge.

"Oh just now ?" she asked with a bored tone moving to the middle of the loft, and with her back towards him, slowly taking her shoes off. "My mother. She sends her love".

"Yeah right!" he mumbled under his breath. The only thing Fiona's mother will send his way would be a bullet. she was a small feisty woman, amazingly strong, honest, passionate and she hated his guts. Once they had to stay for three days under her roof hiding from one of Fiona's old "associates". On the first day she caught him touch Fiona's face and bending to kiss her. She dragged him to the back yard and spent ten minutes shouting furiously at him describing all sorts of bodily harms she is will inflict on him if he dares touching Fiona in any place other than between her fingers and her elbows. He still remembers being impressed by the imaginative descriptions she used. For the rest of his stay he was avoiding Fi at all cost, even chasing her away from his room in the middle of the night ignoring her annoyance and threats. He was making the logical choice to handle Fi and her C4 and not to disobey her scary mother.

He was looking at Fi, still standing there in the middle of the dark loft with her back to him. The light from the small decorative lamp in her side of the bed was illuminating her with soft yellow light and he was mesmerized by her.

She let her hair down in one gentle tag and the shadows played with the auburn locks spilling on her delicate back.

"Michael" he suddenly heard her voice. "Yes Fi?" his voice was hoarse, filled with the lust, and he coughed a little bit to try and hide it. "Come to me" she said extending her hand backwards.

He came around the counter and stood behind her, his left hand holding her smaller hand and his right hand snaking cautiously around her body to lay on her stomach.

"Help me take my dress off" she whispered, laying her head on his chest.

He wasn't sure exactly what is going on. In the last hour she has managed to change her attitude completely. He tried to figure out what the hell happened, as she currently was letting him within her grace again, but as much as he tried he couldn't figure out what the hell he said or done, or didn't say or didn't do to be able to stand right now in the middle of the loft with her head on his chest and her dress pulling on the floor around her feet.

She was naked, apart from a small pink underwear, her body warm, clinging to his body. She put her right hand on top of his hand and guided it slowly on her stomach and downwards under her pink underwear towards her warm sex. His hand slowly climbed the tender curls and downwards soaking in the warm wetness of her core. His long fingers caressed and touched the outer borders of her sex, gliding gently over her clit. His hand was leading the movement now, he expertly massaged the gentle area, her hand clasping his wrist as it moved, his tender touch is slow and deliberate, causing her to gasp and sink her head dipper and dipper onto his chest. He could feel her breaths become faster and more shallow. Her legs flex and contract as she moaned repeatedly. she had to move her left arm and to grab his belt so she wouldn't fall. His breaths also becoming more ragged, both of them are moving together in the rhythm dictated by the constant movements of his finger on her clit. He was holding her with his left arm now, and she was hanging on his strong arms. As he entered her with his other finger, they were both moaning and groaning in Unisom, and she could feel him growing in his pants behind her. Soon her moans grew louder and as she screamed his name he felt her walls fluttering around his fingers, her wetness soaking his hand as she exploded, collapsing to the floor, with him following her down.

They were sitting on the floor. She crouching forward on her knees trying to even her breaths, and he, behind her sitting on his heels laying his head between her shoulder blades still trembling from the recent climax they have shared. They didn't speak, they didn't even look at one another, just breathing heavily together holding each other tightly.

Eventually she recovered. Standing up cautiously she disengaged herself from him and walked towards the bed. in the dim light from the bed side lamp he watched her slim and elegant body, naked and shiny with the sweat caused by their recent activity. She was still with her back towards him, she took off her under ware slowly and deliberately, she could feel his eyes on her every move watching her naked body and she could hear his breath catch in his throat.

He was enchanted. It's been so many years since they first met, so many years since they first had sex together, and every time he looked at her, at her body, it was like the first time all over again. She got into bed pooling the shit on her body covering herself, looking at him for the first time since he touched her tonight.

Suddenly he realized he was still crouching on the floor. He stood up slowly, as though he is afraid his legs might fail to carry him.

"Come to me Michael" she whispered from the bed. In the silent loft it sounded like a plea.

He walked slowly to her, standing above her on her side of the bed. "Come to me Michael" she whispered again stretching her arms towards him.

He bent down and kissed her forehead, she smiled closing her eyes. he continued kissing her nose and her lips and her chin. He repeated this trail gently again and again, gradually spreading himself on the bed, covering her with his long body on top of the shit.

His hands caressed her face, sliding along her beautiful soft hair. He could smell the unique fragrant of her soap and of her skin and the distinct smell of the recent sexual activity they shared. He was lying on top of her, covering her completely, his weight is crushing her to the bed forcefully while his hands and lips continue with the gentle slow studying of her beautiful face.

"Fi" he whispered between one soft kiss to the other. "Yes Michael? " She whispered back, her eyes closed and her little hands holding his bended elbows at her sides. "Fi I..."

He stopped the kissing, and looked at her with a soft look, holding his breath. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His eyes were shinning, with what could only be a thin film of unshed tears. "I know you do.." She whispered to him, her face serious and her gaze piercing his soul. "I do too".

Suddenly he remembered to breath. All of a sudden he felt 60lb lighter. The heavy burden of the last few weeks, the stress that accompanied every sentence they told each other, every conversation, every plan and arrangement, all of it was suddenly gone. He looked at her now, naked and flushed, in his bed, his body covering her, pinning her to his bed, not letting her move or turn without his permission. After all the worry and the caution in which he managed all his dealings with her, calculating in advance every comment and every request he made - all this heaviness was lifted. She was his, she loved him and she wasn't going anywhere.

She saw him smile all of a sudden, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, a sparkle she did not see for a long long time.

"What?" his smile was infectious, "What are you smiling about?" his all face were lightened now and he looked to her ten years younger. "What are _you_ smiling about?" he asked her back. "I'm not smiling!" she tried to look annoyed but failed when he slid his right hand lower and under the shit that was separating them and tickled her side. "Michael!" she was giggling. Fiona Glennane giggling? the whole world must have gone mad, she thought. He continued to touch her lightly and she squirmed and tried to escape from beneath his heavy body. "Michael stop!" she shouted trying to fight him off of her but laughing uncontrollably during their silent fight. He held her arms and pinned them above her head on the bed. "Michael!" she shouted. "What?" he stopped moving and looked curiously at her face "Don't you think that you are over dressed?" she said quietly. They didn't move, lying there watching each other for a few seconds, then as if on cue both of them sat down and violently started pulling Michael's clothes off. fighting his belt, his shoes and socks, and while Michael pulled down his trousers and boxers, the impatient Fiona forcefully ripped off his dress shirt spreading buttons all over the bed and the floor.

Before he knew what hit him, he found himself on his back. She hovered above him with her legs spread on both sides of his pelvis. Her hands on either side of his head. She could feel him growing beneath her. Could feel the hit spreading from the point in which their bodies were touching, agonizingly hot and she felt her wetness spreading on his pelvis. Neither of them moved, the only sound heard in the darkened loft was the sound of their erratic breathing as they stared at one another. It was like a staring contest. Neither want to let go and risk losing the feel of their lover's body.

At last she gave up, with flushed face, her pulse pounding in her ears she sent her hand downwards to the point of contact. Not breaking eye contact she took him in her hand, feeling the hardness and the hit she directed him inside her wet core. They both gasped as he entered her, and in a few seconds they were moving together. His strong hands held her waist coordinating their rhythm as it became faster and faster and both of them were moaning, filling the loft with their lust filled groans.

At the end she sat above him, her body collapsing around him, her walls fluttering and she let her head fall backwards while she reached her pick with a loud scream. He caressed her sweaty body with his big ragged hand, joining her, exploding inside her with everything that he had.

She was completely spent. Sitting on him, their body still connected while he moved her damp hair away from her beautiful face. They smiled to one another. Everything looked simple now. Everything looked as if it is going to be all right.

When finally they disengaged, he sat up in the bed pooling her into his lap her head cradled in his arms as he kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin and finally her delicious lips.

When morning came they were both naked, entangled in one another on the bed.


End file.
